Subject: GhostsFromThePast.5

From: "Colin J. Wynne" <[email-masked]>
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 16:52:56 +0500 (EST)

This story is property of:
				Colin J. Wynne
				P.O. Box 4661
				Lexington, VA 24450
				(703) 464-4030
				[email-masked]

Permission is given to distribute this story freely as long as this header
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"Ghosts from the Past," CH. 13 through Ch. 15:
----------------------------------------------

                           CHAPTER XIII

     "Things are suddenly much clearer, Number One."
     "Yes, yes..."
     "They need new territory, and badly," continued Picard.  "But 
why must they come bearing arms?  They never even tried to 
negotiate or anything.  It doesn't seem rational."
     Riker thought, then responded, "They're too desperate to be 
rational, Captain.  They must think that if we turn down their 
request, then they loose the element of surprise in trying to take 
our territory by force.
     "Look at it from their perspective.  They've been hitting 
dead ends for four-hundred years now.  They just jumped at this 
opportunity."
     "Indeed.  This must look like salvation to them."
     Argyle, from the bridge of the battlecruiser, took advantage 
of the lull to insert a comment of his own.  "Well, we've got them 
now.  Commander Riker, you remember you wanted to take the fight 
to them?  Ask and you shall receive."
     A smile broke across Will's face.  "Yes, we certainly can."
     Picard glanced curiously at the exchange, and recalled a 
comment from the flight recordings.  "What, exactly, did they mean 
by 'the nature of Transwarp', Mr. Argyle?  Please forgive me for 
not being an engineer."
     "Of course, sir.  You see, Transwarp engines are really just 
normal warp engines.  They don't go any faster than conventional 
warp ever did.  They just...do it somewhere else."
     "That doesn't make anything any clearer."
     "Yes, sir, sorry."
     Riker helped out.  "Captain, when we first encountered the 
rips and tried to research them, we found information about 
something called a dimensional interphase."
     "Yes, Number One."  
     "I looked a little closer.  It seems that the phenomena 
recorded by one of the former Enterprises is the basis for 
Transwarp travel."
     Argyle continued, "The interphase universe is completely 
devoid of matter and time there flows at a slightly faster rate."
     Picard made the connection.  "So starships could travel in 
that dimension and make the journey much shorter, subjective to 
our universe."
     "Right.  The engine nacelles have a subatomic transporter 
matrix that induces an interphase just big enough for the ship, 
and off they go."
     Riker added, "What Engineer Sympak did was recalibrate the 
transporter matrix to find our space."
     Picard smiled, belying the full realisation that came to him,  
"So with all of the readings we got on the space on the other side 
of those rips, we could calibrate the engines to send a ship into 
Jhonkai space."
     Argyle frowned at that.  "We could send a transwarp capable 
ship there.  And only if we refine the process.  The last time 
this ship went through its own rip, it completely blew out the 
warp drive."
     "Yes, that does pose a problem, Captain."
     "Good work, Number One."
     "Not my work, sir.  I suggest nominating Lt. Commander Data 
for official commendation.  This is all because of his efforts."
     "Mr. Riker, you are Data's commanding officer.  You send a 
nomination to Starfleet."
     Will smiled, and his cheeks flushed.  To forget his duties as 
a starship commander!  "Yes, sir."
     "I'm going to report to Starfleet.  We have some big news for 
them."
     "Yes, we do, Captain.  Enterprise out."

     Picard was still not used to Lt. Worf's bulky presence being 
absent from the console behind his command chair.  Seeing the 
small lithe form of Hathoway when he was expecting a Klingon 
warrior was just not fair to do to his mind.
     "Mr. Hathoway, get me Starfleet.  Priority A-1."
     "Yes, sir."
     Troi had quietly watched the entire playback from her own 
chair at the middle of the bridge.  She was now watching Picard 
pace back and forth as he waited to talk to Starfleet Command.  At 
this distance from Earth, the communique would take several 
minutes at best to get through.
     "Captain," she began, "you are very upset.  Over what you 
expect Starfleet's response to be?"
     He paused his track at the end of the bridge railing.  
Resting his hands on its polished wood surface, he answered 
without facing her.  "Yes, yes.  I know what they are going to 
say, and it doesn't please me at all."
     "It is good for a man to stand by his principles so strongly.  
But don't you think that this situation is beyond one man?"
     "Counsellor, if it weren't for each 'one man', there would be 
no one at all to deal with this situation.  The fact that those 
other men will see this merely as a chance for vengeance frightens 
me.  I'm sure if we just sent a negotiating team, offering to help 
the Jhonkai with their problems, to arrange territory for them...  
Space is big enough for all intelligent beings to live without 
bumping elbows - or waging war."
     Troi smiled.  "Indeed, Captain Picard.  And you are just the 
man to make a difference in that, aren't you?" she asked 
rhetorically.  "It still doesn't help to get so worried about it.  
Nerves are not going to help your arguments to Starfleet at all."
     It was the Captain's turn to smile.  "I guess you're right."
     "Sir," interrupted Hathoway, "Starfleet Command."
     "On screen, Ensign."
     The starscape shifted to the bust of a greying, broad chested 
man in Starfleet uniform, admiral's marks visible near his throat.
     "Captain Picard, this is Admiral Gruber."  Picard recognised 
the man; he was top dog at the Planetary Defense Fleet.  His tone 
was pleasant, but forceful.  "Captain, I'll assume you have good 
reason for contacting us on Priority.  We are very busy over 
here."
     "Of course, Admiral.  I have, in fact, some very important 
news for you.  The crew of the battlecruiser Enterprise has 
completed the decoding of the ship's log entries."
     "Excellent," responded the older man, his face practically 
beaming. His grumbling bass voice was almost undetectably 
brighter.
     "Our Commander Argyle has determined that Transwarp drive 
starships can be recalibrated to enter the home space of our 
invaders, who call themselves the Jhonkai.  It has been done once, 
by the original crew of the battlecruiser, but with decidedly less 
than perfect results.  They almost destroyed the Transwarp 
engines.  Some time will have to be spent perfecting the process."
     "Less than you think, Captain."
     "Sir?"
     "Since day one, we've been making contingency plans for 
everything we could think of, including if we were somehow able to 
counter-attack.  This is the break we've been waiting for.  I'll 
need more information from Commander Argyle to get our Engineering 
staff working on it."  The Admiral glanced downward, apparently at 
a computer screen of notes.  "I'll also need Commander Riker to 
transmit a complete copy of those logs to Starfleet Command for 
analysis."
     Picard cleared his throat, and continued.  "Admiral, there is 
more.  These beings are in trouble.  Their home space is self-
destructing into these rips, and they've been looking for a new 
home for four-hundred years.  They are desperate, Admiral, and 
they have resorted to violence out of fear that we wouldn't help 
them.  Obviously, however, we must."
     "One moment, Captain."  Gruber turned off the sound pick-up, 
and spoke to someone out of view for almost seven or eight minutes 
before returning his attention to Picard.
     "That is quite an interesting piece of information, Captain.  
I must admit, that's one contingency we haven't planned for.  It 
doesn't change much of our operational plans, however, just our 
purpose.  We still want to force the Jhonkai into negotiations.  
We now have something different about which to negotiate.
     "The Jhonkai seem a fairly advanced and industrialised race.  
They need territory, which we can give them access to: for a 
price."
     Picard commented in a flat voice, "That's rather...mercenary, 
isn't it, sir?"
     "Picard, they invaded us!  We're not going to just let them 
move in next door - unless we get something out of it: guaranteed 
trade status, industrial concessions, commercial shipbuilding 
quotas and disarmament, complete, unconditional and verifiable."
     The Captain scowled.  "Yes, Admiral.  Whatever Starfleet 
Command thinks best."
     "Exactly, Captain.  That's why we are Command.  Your specific 
orders will be transmitted later."
     The screen blinked back to the serene black velvet, speckled 
with beautiful, twinkling spots of light.
     "Damn!"

     Riker sat impatiently on his bridge, drumming his fingers on 
the armrest of the command chair, much to the consternation of his 
officers.  At least he wasn't pacing.  After hearing about 
Picard's conversation with Starfleet, he was on pins and needles 
waiting for their orders, which were, supposedly, to follow 
shortly.
     Three hours ago.
     "Commander."  Worf's voice brought Will's head around with a 
snap.  "Encoded transmission from Starfleet, commanding officer's 
eyes only."
     Riker stood abruptly.  "Excellent, Lieutenant."
     "Shall I transfer it to your quarters?"
     "No, Worf.  Get me Captain Picard."
     The burly Klingon looked slightly quizzical.  "Of course, 
sir.  On screen."
     The Captain's hawklike features swam onto the screen.  "Ah, 
Mr. Riker, I've just received-"
     "Aye, sir.  So have I.  Permission to board your ship, sir?  
I believe we have similar business..."
     "Of course, Commander.  I'll be waiting in my ready room."

     "Come."
     Riker's form appeared on the other side of the door.  Picard 
looked up from his desktop monitor.  "Have a seat, Number One."
     Will sat across from the older man, turning another screen 
towards himself.  Sparing a glance towards the captain, Will was 
suddenly struck by his own almost boyish excitement.  He was about 
to decode a set of Starfleet orders directed to himself - and his 
ship.  
     What made him realise this was Picard's own look of nervous 
expectation.  He knew what he was going to find, something that he 
wasn't going to like, but hoped wouldn't be there.  Riker 
swallowed, and suddenly felt ashamed of his exuberance.
     The Captain cleared his throat.  "Shall we proceed, 
Commander?"
     "Aye, aye, sir."
     The two men fed authorisation and decoding sequences into the 
terminals.  Waiting patiently, they watched as information flowed 
onto the screens.  Exhilaration seeped into Riker's body as he 
read his - his - mission orders.  Picard stared unblinkingly 
through several readings, at last allowing a raised eyebrow, but 
no more.
     Riker turned his attention towards that small gesture.  
"Something interesting. sir?"
     "Extremely, extremely."
     "Let's hear it."
     "Certainly, Number One.
     "NCC 1701-D U.S.S. Enterprise is to proceed at best speed to 
rendezvous point to be announced shortly, whereupon the vessel 
will dock for an indefinite period of time.  Senior officers will 
transfer for duty aboard NCC 1701-C U.S.S. Enterprise during that 
same period.  Captain Picard is to be transferred aboard squadron 
flagship to head Starfleet diplomatic party after contact with 
Jhonkai homeworlds.
     "What do you think, Commander?"
     "A Starfleet diplomatic envoy?  Not from the Federation 
Council - that surprises me."
     "Me as well."
     "They must think highly of you at Starfleet Command."
     "Indeed; I'm flattered, but for Starfleet to have bypassed 
the Council-"
     "They must have invoked wartime powers and overridden the 
Council."
     "Yes.  Still, I'm glad to be able to have a hand in this 
after all.  Now, Mr. Riker, what, if I may ask, are your orders?"
     Riker beamed a smile.  "Well, most of that was mentioned in 
your orders, but there was a little something more..."
     "Yes?"
     "I'm to receive a brevet appointment to Captain for the 
duration of our operations in Jhonkai space."
     Picard stood and held out his hand.  "Congratulations, Will.  
Captain Riker, that is."
     "Thank you, sir."

                           CHAPTER XIV

     Jean-Luc Picard sat all the way back, pushing every square 
inch of his back into the comfortable simulated leather of the 
command chair.  Starbase 93 loomed large in the viewscreen, with 
only a small sliver of stars garnishing the bottom of the screen.  
A hint of bluish-red nebula played about the image's periphery.
     "Starbase welcomes Enterprise.  Admiral Wesley sends his 
compliments, and requests that Captain Picard join him on the 
temporary squadron flagship, dock fourteen."
     "Starbase, this is Captain Picard.  Please inform the Admiral 
that I'll be aboard presently."
     "Acknowledged, Captain.  Our crew will prepare a berth for 
your ship. Starbase out."
     At that moment, Geordi emerged from the turbolift.  "Mr. 
LaForge, you have the conn."
     Geordi stopped short, mildly surprised.  "Sir?"
     "I have to meet an Admiral.  Make sure they take good care of 
my ship."
     "Of course, sir."
     The ship's gangway deposited Picard in a corridor filled with 
spacesuited workers, going in and out of airlocks into the main 
docking bay.  The tiny monkey-like figures danced among the 
metallic leviathans on which they worked.  The battlecruiser was 
moored directly aft of Picard's Enterprise.  Walking to the 
nearest lift, Jean-Luc entered, and said "Dock fourteen, please."
     The captain was more than mildly surprised to find himself in 
a waiting lounge devoid of the huge clearsteel viewing ports to 
which he was accustomed.  Above huge double doors set into the 
nondescript wall, the number fourteen was printed in plain, 
standard Starfleet typeface.  The doors were just closing on 
Riker's back.
     "Commander!"
     Will turned around, causing the doors to slide open again.  
"Only for a few more minutes, sir."  Picard raised a querulous 
eyebrow.  "My appointment is about to be confirmed."
     "Yes, of course."  Picard stepped up to join his comrade.  "I 
must say, Mr. Riker, that I..."
     Picard's voice trailed off as he stepped onto the gangway.  
The top of the corridor was transparent, and through it, Picard 
was awestruck by beauty incarnate.
     "Impressive, isn't it sir?"
     Glistening pearlescent in the bay floodlights, the sleek form 
of an Enterprise class transwarp heavy cruiser - a ship three 
quarters of a century old! - sat like a watchful sphinx over their 
diminutive forms.
     NCC 1844, U.S.S. Ranger, perched at the end of the gangway, 
the starbase's umbilical connecting smoothly at the main loading 
doors on the portside of the saucer.  The two officers walked 
silently down the ramp, until the two large doors stood several 
feet over them.  They parted, and a boatswain's whistle piped them 
aboard.
     A yeoman stood crisply to attention.  "Admiral Wesley sends 
his compliments, and requests to see captains right away, sirs!"
     "Thank you, Ensign," offered Picard, "we would be 
delighted."
     Once inside, though, Picard realised that the sheer elegance 
faded quickly into stark, military functionality.  The corridors, 
much more cramped than Jean-Luc was familiar with, were floored in 
steel grating covering easily accessed systems, to accommodate 
damage control, and survival compartments in the bulkheads to 
provide for catastrophic damage survival.  Picard realised in the 
back of his mind that all this suited the purpose for which 
Ranger had been built, but it nonetheless made Picard feel 
uncomfortable.

     Admiral Garrett Wesley shook Riker's hand vigorously after 
formal introductions had been made.  "Commander, you have done 
some very good work, I've heard."
     "Thank you, Admiral, sir.  That means a great deal to me, 
coming from you."
     "I have something else for you, Commander."  The Admiral, a 
small round man with a full head of grey speckled hair, picked a 
small, black, gold trimmed box from his desk.
     "Attention!"  Riker and Picard, who hovered near the back of 
the room, both went rigid.  "Commander William Riker, as 
Commanding Officer of Task Force Odysseus, it is my pleasure to 
offer you a field promotion to the rank of Captain, with all 
accompanying rights and responsibilities, for the duration of this 
assignment."
     "Thank you, sir.  I would be honoured to accept, sir."
     Admiral Wesley removed a tiny gold dot from the box.  "So be 
it."  He fastened the insignia alongside the three pins which had 
indicated Will's rank as Commander.  "Congratulations, Captain 
Riker."
     Picard's smile was almost as wide as Will's own.
     "You know, Captain - or should I say Captains - this is 
rather nostalgic for me."
     "And how is that, Admiral?" inquired Picard.
     "My grandfather was a very good friend of James Kirk's, and 
he worked with the original Enterprise on several occasions."
     "Indeed," noted Riker.  "Commodore Robert Wesley has quite a 
reputation, and the Academy uses his accomplishments as examples 
for us all."
     "Now, Captain Riker, I must be on my way to the task force 
command meeting.  The Klingon and Kzinti force commanders will be 
there and we must establish some basic things."
     "Kzinti, sir?"
     "Yes... It seems they've been quite the busy little felines 
these past years.  Anyway, I'll expect you there in fifteen 
minutes, Conference Room Three."
     "Me, sir?  I thought you said task force command."
     "Just be there.  Captain Picard."
     "Yes, Admiral?"
     "The diplomatic detachment is meeting in Conference Room 
Eight. There are representatives from the Council and from 
Starfleet Command who need to see you and the rest of the envoy."
     "Yes, sir."
     "Gentlemen."  And with that, the stout little admiral turned 
and left the room.
     Both captains stood silent for some seconds.  Riker broke the 
silence first.  "Admiral Wesley moves rather quickly."
     "He doesn't have much time to waste, Captain Riker."
     "That sounds so..."
     Picard laughed.  "I understand completely.  It takes a while 
to get used to."
     "We have meetings to get to."
     "Yes.  I am most curious to find out who I'll be working 
with. And as for you, good Luck, Will."
     "Thank you.  And to you, Jean-Luc."

     Riker quietly entered the briefing room, realised that the 
Admiral was not yet present, and moved to a chair at the opposite 
side of the room where a name plate indicated he was to be.  Not 
even had his back touched the chair when the door opened again and 
a Marine honour guard called attention.  The group of officers at 
the table - of whom Riker was by far the most junior, the rest 
being admirals of various rank and one commodore - stood sharply.
     Garrett Wesley moved quickly and directly to the head of the 
table, and mumbled a terse "At ease," before sitting.
     "Ladies and gentleman" - for indeed the commodore was a 
female, and quite a pretty one at that, noted Riker - "I have been 
informed that the Klingon and Kzinti commanders have just boarded 
the station and should be here directly."
     To punctuate his words, the door opened again, and a truly 
impressive Klingon, larger even that Worf, standing close to seven 
feet, entered, resplendent in his shiny black dress battle armour 
and flowing shoulder-cape.
     "Admiral Krond?"
     "Yes, Admiral Wesley."
     Indeed, it was the same Klingon that the Enterprise had been 
with during the training manoeuvres that led to the discovery of 
the battlecruiser, and the start of all of this.  "It is an honour 
to meet you, Admiral.  Has your fleet arrived yet?"
     "My ships and I are at your disposal."
     "Please, have a seat."  The Klingon and the two officers who 
had accompanied him took seats near the opposite end of the table 
from Admiral Wesley.
     "Now, Admiral Krond, if I may inquire now, what size force 
have you brought with you?"
     "My flagship is the C-8 dreadnaught Reaver.  Under my 
command, I have a C-8 heavy shuttle carrier, a D-7 command 
cruiser, a D-7 shuttle carrier, eleven battlecruisers, eight light 
cruisers, and six battle frigates.  Twenty-nine ships with forty 
fighter-shuttles, all Transwarp capable."
     By the end of this recitation, the jaws of more than one 
Federation intelligence officer present, had dropped.  An 
anonymous low whistle floated through the air.  Krond inflated 
with pride.
     Wesley began in a very polite tone.  "Admiral, the Federation 
was unaware of the existence of two C-8 dreadnaughts.  How, might 
I ask do you come to possess these?"
     "The heavy carrier Vulture was an orbitting museum around 
Klinshai.  As for the Reaver, let us just say that the Klingon 
government has many...contingency plans."
     "I see;  and that is-"
     "And that is all I am authorised to or wish to say on the 
subject, Admiral."

     The major, but probably least significant, portion of the 
meeting, the diplomatic ice-breaking and verbal shows of force, 
was done in little more than an hour.  The Kzinti Admiral k'Rzaal 
had brought a smaller force than Krond, but one which caused 
even more eyebrows to be raised, and one that would precipitate a 
great deal more grumbling through the ranks of intelligence 
officers.  For the kzinti should not have had even had Transwarp 
technology, according to treaty, yet were able to field a space 
control ship, six battle cruisers, and nine smaller ships.
     Also participating in Task Force Odysseus was a small, but 
powerful, Gorn contingent, of two dreadnaughts, and three each of 
cruisers and destroyers, under Admiral S'Tyrrg.  The Gorns, always 
staunch allies of the Federation, maintained their own fleet, 
which was of very high quality.
     The largest force was, of course, Starfleet's own.  Wesley's 
flagship would be (when it arrived for rendezvous) the space 
control ship Ingram, whose sister ship Saipan would also take part 
in the operation.  Three of the venerable Excelsior class 
battleships, including the famous nameship of the class, which was 
a contemporary of the Ingram, formed the spearhead of the direct 
combat units, which also included twelve more battlecruisers, 
eighteen of the Constitution II heavy cruisers, ten destroyers, 
and a dozen-and-a-half heavy frigates.  Starfleet had also managed 
to assemble complete fighter groups and crews for two Essex class 
heavy carriers.
     But what that all amounted to was that the Gorn, Kzinti, and 
Klingons had modern front-line combatants, except for the SCS and 
C-8's, while all of the Federation ships ranged from twenty to 
ninety years old.
     After all of the logistics and unnecessary intelligence 
officers had left, the remaining, relatively small, group of 
officers, including Riker, settled into a tactics session to 
figure out what to do with those meager seeming resources.
     Wesley addressed the group.  "Starfleet now has a collection 
of over forty, shall we say, refugees, beamed off of Jhonkai 
vessels before they were able to self-destruct.  What we were able 
to determine from them after questioning, is that we need to make 
as direct an attack as possible to convince them to abandon their 
invasion.  As a side note, this data is fairly reliable, because at 
least eight of the Jhonkai are of officer status, some very high 
up at that.
     "Of course, we will have to offer them a chance to surrender 
before initiating any hostilities-"
     "Ridiculous!" scowled Krond, and the kzin growled deep in 
his chest.
     "If you will let me finish," bellowed Wesley in a voice all 
out of proportion to his diminutive size, "gentlebeings.  I have 
received authorisation to allow minimal response time after the 
ultimatum.  They will not catch my fleet with its trousers down.
     "I am sure that you have both been informed by your 
governments that you are submitting to my command authority for 
this operation.  However, Krond, k'Rzaal, and S'Tyrrg, you will 
all be immediate advisers, as members of my flagstaff.
     "This is clear?" he asked, in a completely non-threatening 
tone.  Various acknowledgements were given.
     "This assault will not be easy.  They will likely outnumber 
us greatly, so we must go straight for their largest collection of 
ships and defeat them before we can be attritted by numerous small 
battles.  Straight into the lion's den is how it must be.
     "You may all now return to your ships to begin final 
preparations.  Captain Riker, Commodore Mateo, please remain."
     With a dramatic turn that snapped his cape in a sharp arc 
about his muscular, armoured body, Krond strode from the room 
wordlessly, a trio of aides following in formation.  At the door, 
k'Rzaal met him, equally as large, if not taller, and definitely 
bulkier, even without battle armour.  With an arrogant 
graciousness, he allowed the Klingon to go first.  The Gorn 
followed them both, mixed in with the remaining human officers, 
until only three forms remained at the conference table.
     The Admiral addressed Will.  "Commodore Mateo will be your 
immediate superior, as commander of the entire battlecruiser 
detachment."
     Riker spared a long glance, taking in a heart shaped, dark-
skinned face with high cheek bones, and large hazel eyes.  A frame 
of wavy black hair came down to and over the shoulders of her red 
and black uniform.
     "The designation is more for a table of organisation than for 
reality, however, since the battlecruisers will be thoroughly 
integrated into the rest of the fleet."
     Riker nodded, and became curious as to the point of all of 
this.  "The fact remains, Captain, that you are presently the most 
experienced commanding officer we have who is both familiar with 
the tremendous capabilities of an Alaska class battlecruiser and 
of the foe that we will be fighting.  You have also demonstrated 
a keen understanding as to how to use that knowledge, and the 
proper disposition for this type of mission.  Do you disagree 
with any of this, Captain Riker?"
     Riker thought momentarily, then responded carefully, "Sir, I 
understand the tremendous importance of the mission that Odysseus 
is assuming, and I am willing to play as active a part in that 
mission as will be helpful.  And I agree that I have experience 
with the ship and the Jhonkai."
     "Good!  Because of that, the commodore and I have chosen you 
to command a small detachment of four battlecruisers:  
Enterprise, Groombridge, Caeser, and Lugal.  If I, as Task Force 
Commander, decide that I need those ships for anything--anything-- 
out of the ordinary, I will not hesitate to call upon you.
     "I don't exactly know what I may need you to do, but the 
collective firepower of four battlecruisers in some sort of tricky 
situation might very well be decisive.  Do you understand all of 
this?"
     "Sir, I do.  Thank you for your trust."
     "You've earned it.  Anyway, I have to be going.  My flagship 
should have docked by now.  At ease, both of you."
     In a blur, Wesley's compact figure breezed through the 
doorway, and was gone.  Mateo stood.
     "Captain, you come with some good references.  I know you 
won't let me down."
     Will allowed a nervous smile.  "With all this at stake, I'd 
better not."

                            CHAPTER XV

     "Task Force Commander's Log, Stardate 42952.8:  Thirteen 
ships are yet to arrive, but otherwise preparations are going as 
well as can be hoped for under trying conditions.
     "Lt. Argyle and his assistant, Ensign Crusher, are still 
finalising calculations for the 'rip' travel, based on their own 
research, and on information from the Jhonkai we have questioned.
     "I have met all of my commanding officers, and I feel 
reassured.  They are all of very good quality and I know I will 
not have to assume any more worries than necessary on this most 
important of missions.
     "The diplomatic contingent is secure aboard the Saipan.  My 
decision not to put them aboard the flagship was not an easy one, 
but I have my rationale.  If a diplomatic opportunity arises 
before hostilities are finished, the Ingram and myself must needs 
remain with those ships that are still fighting.
     "So, for now, I have naught to do but wait, and has there 
ever in history been a naval commander who enjoyed waiting?  The 
more men he commands, the worse the waiting..."

     "Come."
     The door parted to admit Worf, who entered and took a seat.  
Riker was relaxing in his cabin, where Data had already arrived.  
Will had invited his friends to come and join him, since only the 
engineers had anything to keep them busy for the while.
     "Captain," said Worf, his way of greeting his host.
     "Worf, you've finished what you've been doing?"
     "Yes, sir.  The Tactics Board has completed briefing all the 
fleet weapons officers."
     "Good, good."  Riker's voice trailed off, and his eyes 
assumed a faraway look.
     Data cocked his head to one side, and spoke.  "If I am not 
mistaken, sir, something is troubling you."
     "Hmm?  No, it's-  Actually, you're not mistaken, Data.  
Something is."
     "I had thought that you were very content to command this 
ship.  Has something changed your opinion?"
     "No, certainly not!  The ship is wonderful, and my crew is 
exemplary.  It's just..."  He was silent for several long moments.  
"Data, when was the last war involving the Federation?"?
     "Searching.  The Federation Council last declared war in 
response to aggressions by the Klingon Empire, on Stardate 9932.3.  
Since that time, three major border skirmishes with the Romulans, 
the most recent of which was eighteen years ago, and-"  Data cut 
himself off, before continuing.
     "I believe I understand now, Captain.  You believe that the 
Federation is, to use a phrase, 'out of practice'?"
     "Somewhat, but I think that what's really bothering me is 
more personal.  I've fought maybe a dozen little encounters with 
these Jhonkai, and now I'm being treated like I'm some sort of 
expert.  Me, with a first command--not even permanent--and a 
little luck.
     "But you're right, too, Data.  The whole Federation!"  Riker 
rose abruptly and walked towards the viewport.  "We shouldn't be 
fighting this war.  This or any; it's crazy.  War is-"
     "A fine tradition, sir," interrupted Worf.  "Many of my 
ancestors found their glory in warfare, and there is no reason why 
it should take on any less meaning today."
     "Worf, I appreciate your background, but it's this simple.  A 
civilisation as advanced as the Federation should not be fighting 
a war."
     "I disagree, Captain.  Two civilisations as advanced, as 
you call it, as the Federation, should not fight.  But if one side 
is determined to have a war, it cannot be avoided."
     "I believe that Lt. Worf is correct, sir.  The Federation had 
much the same beliefs that you express before the war with the 
Klingons.  History shows that because of unwillingness to accept 
the fact of the war, the Federation did very poorly the first year 
of the conflict. And-"
     Riker nodded.  "And only after we realised the Klingon point 
of view were we able to finish the war and establish the 
negotiations that brought us to where we are today.  Yes, I see 
your point.  Thank you both for helping settle my mind.  I still 
am going to worry about myself, though, if you don't mind."
     Data said, "But you will do very well, sir."
     Worf grunted.  "You are no Klingon, but I agree."
     Riker couldn't help but laugh at Worf's statement.

     The Saipan was tremendous, even compared to his own ship, 
thought Jean-Luc Picard, as he walked the steel corridors towards 
his stateroom.  Alongside him were Dr. Crusher and Counsellor 
Troi, whom he had asked to accompany him as advisers.  They had 
readily accepted.  As the door closed behind them, he offered 
chairs, and took one near a viewport himself.
     "Seeing as how Starfleet has already spelled out the terms it 
is willing to offer, I have only one real duty to perform here.  I 
have to exploit, perhaps even create, some opportunity to open 
negotiations.
     "And it seems like Starfleet plans on giving me little chance 
to do that before the Jhonkai have been crushed completely."
     Troi pointed out, "But we do have some opportunity, sir.  And 
you will figure out how to take advantage of it, before it is too 
late."
     "Yes, we have to come to terms with these poor beings before 
they have nothing left to save."
     "Poor beings!"  Dr. Crusher exploded.  "Excuse me, Captain, 
but have you been to the Starbase sickbay recently?  Have you seen 
all of the mangled bodies that have been in and out of there?  My 
God, these 'poor beings' have wiped out almost a million 
civilians, scattered around this sector alone.
     "The Jhonkai cannot be treated any less harshly than 
they have treated us if they are ever to be dealt with safely.  
After all the damage they've wrought; on innocent people, on 
Starfleet officers, and equipment, on Wes-"  Beverly threw her 
hands to her face, and turned quickly, hiding the tears that were 
starting to form.
     "Doctor," said Picard compassionately, rising quickly.
     Troi waved him to stop, and herself moved towards the doctor.  
Picard didn't want to leave, but was forced to concede the 
Counsellor's expertise.  With a dejected mood and a scowl, Jean-
Luc turned wordlessly and stalked out of the room.
     When she heard the sighing of the closing door, Crusher 
turned back around.  "Oh, Deanna!  I've got to apologise to-"
     "The Captain understands.  Don't worry about him right now."  
Biting her bottom lip, she reluctantly reseated herself.  
"Beverly, Wes is doing much better."
     "Is he?  I mean really?"
     "I would not try to deceive you, you know that."
     With that reassurance, and the listlessness of having 
released a terrible emotional burden, Crusher leaned back in the 
chair, somewhat relaxed, and wiped a last tear from her cheek.
     "I have been with him almost every day, helping him deal with 
what he has done, and it has helped.  He will always carry that 
remorse in him, but that will help him not to repeat his mistake.
     The last time that the doctor had seen her son, he was 
tremendously depressed, hardly speaking, eating little, and 
torturing himself by constantly thinking about the three other men 
who he had forced himself to go and see.  Two of them were still 
unconscious in regen baths.
     Since then, they had talked only briefly, on a few 
occasions, and that was not enough to tell how he was.  She had 
assumed the worse.  Damn the Jhonkai for creating the havoc which 
had kept her too busy to see her son.
     "You were told that he is back on duty, at my 
recommendation?"
     "Yes, I had heard, but not what he is doing."
     "He and Lt. Argyle have been working on the problem of moving 
through the rips.  I don't think he will be back in his old 
posting, however."
     "I have to see him before the fleet departs."

     Newly promoted Lt. Cmdr. Argyle tapped one last sequence into 
the computer, and shut it down, leaving it for the briefing he 
would be conducting in a few minutes.  He stood, stretched 
dramatically, and turned to where Wes sat, staring at the screen 
he was using.
     "What's the matter, Wes?  Aren't you finished yet?"
     "Yeah, I guess so."
     "You guess so?  Well did you finish the programming, or 
what?"
     "Yes.  I just don't know if..."
     At Captain Riker's suggestion, Argyle had assigned Wes, after 
the two of them had done the brunt of the work on the Transwarp 
algorithms for rip travel, to complete the programming to increase 
shield output on the older ships.  As Riker had put it, "back in 
the saddle" as soon as possible.
     The boy's work was superb, and the computer simulations 
backed up his theories, but he was apathetic about the problem,
even as he had been completely absorbed by the warp field 
recalibration.
     Argyle was no psychologist, but he had to put back together a 
few younger officers in his time, after they had done something 
they thought they could never be forgiven for, by themselves or 
anyone else.
     "What's eating you, Wes?"
     Crusher's head turned, a mildly insulted look on his face.  
"You have to ask?"
     "Look, you made a mistake."  He winced.  "And you don't like 
it. And you don't like the fact that you weren't the only one hurt 
by it.  Well, take that as a lesson.  As a Starfleet officer, you 
are responsible for more than just yourself.  That probably doesn't 
make it any easier, but you just have to face it.
     "Now, what have all the computer simulations said about your 
reprogramming?"
     "It will increase shield power by 70% in all diburnium-osmium 
coil based shielding systems."
     "That's fantastic!  Nobody has ever been able to do that 
before."
     Wesley dismissed it with a sharp shake of his head.  "It was 
obvious.  Anyone could have-"
     "Obvious to you, maybe, but not to anyone else who ever 
tackled that problem.  With this advantage, think of how many more 
men will be saved when we fight the Jhonkai.  Did you think of 
that?"
     A realisation dawned across the youthful visage.  "No...All 
those people."
     "Who will be safer because of your improvements.  Now I ask 
you again, are you finished yet?"
     "Yes, sir!"
     "Good.  The briefing starts in ten minutes.  Let's get this 
place cleaned up."

     Dr. Crusher watched the doors open and saw dozens of officers 
in Engineering gold move purposefully from the briefing room.  
They had some serious work to accomplish in the next fourteen 
hours before the Task Force departed.
     When the room was almost empty, she walked in.  The two 
occupants noticed her.
     "Good afternoon, Doctor."
     "Hello, Mr. Argyle."
     "Mom."  Wes crossed over to the doctor.
     "Argyle, do you need him right now?"
     "No, ma'am.  He's yours."
     "Thank you.  Wes?"
     "All right.  Where are we going?"  he asked as the door slid 
shut behind the two of them.
     "Just for a walk," she answered.  "Wes, you know I'm going 
with the task force, don't you?"
     He stopped short.  "Why?  You shouldn't be-"
     "Yes, I should.  I'm acting as personal advisor to Captain 
Picard, and as an extra surgeon aboard the Saipan."
     "But mom, what if something, you know, happens?"  She could 
see that he was very, very concerned.  After all, he had lost one 
parent already.
     "And what if something happens to you?  You've already given 
me enough of a scare."
     Now he saw the worry in her eyes, too.  She had already lost 
one of the important men in her life.  "Mom, I did something 
stupid, and I know it.  But I'll be alright.  I just mean...I'll 
be alright."
     Beverly took her son and embraced him.  She heard, more than 
what he said, how he had said it, and she believed him.  When they 
separated, she said, "Now don't you tell me that I shouldn't be 
going. We both have duties to perform."
     He grinned sheepishly.  "OK."
     "If I don't see you before departure, good luck."
     "You too."

     The bridge of the Ingram class Space Control Ship was 
enormous.  Admiral Garrett Wesley's command chair was behind and 
above the Captain's chair at the center of the circular room, and 
was itself surrounded by seats for the Admiral's staff, as the 
captain's was by his first officer's and tactical officer.
     The klaxon was off, but the pulsing amber alert lights still 
played about the reflective surfaces of the room.  At least twenty 
stations sat about the perimeter of the room, parting only for the 
three turbolift doors.  The main viewer was, of course, fore, with 
secondary and only slightly smaller viewers port aft and starboard 
aft, so everyone could always see clearly what was going on.
     Under the main viewer, the Tactical Weapons Officer ran 
simulations with her crew.  Behind her, the helmsman and navigator 
cycled through their own checklists.
     Though he had been in this very room too many times to 
recall, all of these details played at the back of the Admiral's 
mind while he crossed towards the Communications Officer, under 
the portside viewer.
     "All right, Commander, on screen."
     The viewscreen directly above shifted, and the view of the 
starbase disappeared.
     "U.S.S. Ingram, Admiral Garrett Wesley receiving."
     "This is Admiral Gruber, Starfleet Headquarters.  Admiral 
Wesley, when is your fleet set for departure?"
     "We are leaving Starbase in nine hours, twenty-three 
minutes."
     "Can you speed up that time at all?"
     That question unnerved Wesley.  "Not without seriously 
jeopardising our preparations, sir.  May I ask why?"
     Gruber looked as though chewing on something distasteful.  
"The Jhonkai forces has stepped up their invasion schedule, it 
seems. Numerous heavy units are being reported all over Federation 
space. An outpost on the Romulan border was attacked and destroyed 
twenty minutes ago.  The situation is becoming critical."
     "We'll do our best, sir."
     That didn't seem to appease him.  "Starfleet out."